12 #2
She rose woodenly to her feet and made a beeline for her bedroom on autopilot.
Several minutes later, she opened the door again and found Noah standing beside the now-clear dining room table, his hands shoved awkwardly into his pockets.
It was one of the first times—or, maybe the only time—she’d ever seen him look uncertain, and it was oddly adorable.
“I put away the leftovers, but if you want more you can just reheat. There’s dessert in the fridge,” he explained, and Olivia glanced at the low coffee table, where there was only one dinner plate prepared.
“You’re leaving?”
Noah stopped, his brow pinched a bit in the middle. “Well, I just figured you’d want me to go,” he replied.
Olivia looked again at the single plate and then around the lonely living room, and she suddenly realized she didn’t actually want to be alone. “Could you stay?” she asked, her voice smaller than she’d like. There was no telling when Lexie would get back, and somebody was better than nobody, right?
Noah considered her for a minute, almost like he was weighing the pros and cons, before raising one shoulder in an almost-casual shrug.
“Alright. If you want,” he said. Then he ducked down the hallway toward the kitchen.
Olivia heard the refrigerator door open and the clink of dishes while she settled herself on the couch, and he returned with a second loaded plate a few minutes later.
“So, what’ll it be?” he asked, already making himself comfortable beside her. “ Parks and Rec ? Sons of Anarchy ?”
Olivia shook her head and picked up the remote. “Nope,” she replied. She turned on the DVR and pulled up the replay of the previous night’s episode of The Bachelor , which she’d missed.
Noah tilted his head back against the top of the couch. “You’ve got to be kidding,” he groaned, and Olivia felt an evil sort of pleasure expand inside her chest like a balloon.
“You asked,” she responded.
He wiped one hand down his face in resignation and sat up before pulling his plate into his lap.
Olivia left hers on the table. It smelled good, even from there, and she knew logically that she should eat something, but she just couldn’t summon the desire for food.
All she really wanted was to sit on this couch and turn her brain to mush with the world’s stupidest reality television.
Honestly, the only reason she watched was so she could remind Robin how ridiculous the whole thing was.
Well, that and the cat fights. Everybody loved those.
“What’s with his shirt?” Noah asked, referring to Ben, the current Bachelor himself, who’d arrived in Belize in a private helicopter. Olivia shrugged; she’d grown used to Ben’s penchant for deep-V necklines by this point in the season.
“I think he lost the rest of it,” she said. Half the words were drowned by a yawn, and she leaned to one side without really thinking. Her cheek landed squarely on Noah’s upper arm.
You should probably get up , a small voice admonished, but she was too tired to listen. She felt like she could crawl into bed and sleep for a week.
Hours later, Olivia woke with a start. The living room was half lit by only one table lamp, and the rest of the apartment felt and sounded empty.
She raised her head from the small pillow she’d been sleeping on and realized she didn’t remember lying down.
Or covering herself with a blanket. She sat up further and looked around the room, dragging a hand through her hair.
Her gaze caught on a vase of pink roses on the dining room table, and the rest of the evening flooded back all at once.
Noah.
Dinner. Flowers. Candles.
The Bachelor.
She pushed off the soft throw blanket and swung her feet to the floor. “Noah?” she called, but all she got in response was silence. Then she padded down the hall to Lexie’s room and found it empty as well.
Olivia returned to where she’d started and stood in the middle of the living room with her hands on her hips, not quite sure what to do with herself.
Then, she saw a yellow square tucked beneath the flowers—a sheet from the Post-it pad on the fridge.
She lifted the vase and pulled the adhesive from the table.
I don’t like Courtney , the first line said, and a smile grew across Olivia’s face. So, Noah had at least stayed long enough to meet all six candidates for Ben’s final rose. But I do believe in fairies , the note finished, and something hot pricked the corners of Olivia’s eyes.
Apparently, Noah Campbell could have his moments of redemption.
The next night, Noah sat in his car outside Watson’s Grocery Store and polished off a turkey sandwich from the deli case.
It had seemed like enough ten minutes ago, but now he was wishing he had the pork from Olivia’s house.
Too bad he’d left it all in her fridge; it was probably one of the most delicious meals he’d ever made.
And she hadn’t even touched it—at least, not while he was there.
He twirled his phone where it lay on the center console and resisted the urge to check it again.
He’d texted her twice that morning without response, which didn’t necessarily surprise him.
He wasn’t stupid—he knew she had plenty of other friends to turn to if she needed something; she’d only kept him around last night because he was available.
He doubted she’d spent any real time thinking about it afterward.
He, on the other hand, couldn’t seem to stop thinking about it—which didn’t make any sense, since the only reason he’d been present at all was because of their little game. And it wasn’t like he’d never had dinner and watched TV with a girl before.
But, if he were being honest, it wasn’t what had happened that made his insides squirm like a bag of cats. It was what hadn’t .
He hadn’t felt the walls closing in on him when she’d snuggled close.
He hadn’t concocted a reason to leave early.
He hadn’t even pretended to visit the bathroom to gain some space.
He’d just... stayed. He’d let her fall asleep against his shoulder like it had happened a thousand times, and then he’d laid her down and tucked her in when the show was over and locked the door behind him when he left.
It’s just biology , he assured himself. She was upset, which stressed me out and raised my cortisol levels. Close proximity created oxytocin, which activated my parasympathetic nervous system and overrode the fight-or-flight response I normally have when girls want to cuddle. Simple science.
A soft tap at his driver’s side window interrupted his train of thought, and he looked over to find Olivia—of all people—standing outside the car. His window didn’t work, so he popped open the door to talk to her.
“Hey,” he said, furrowing his brow. “What are you doing here?”
Olivia shrugged. “We needed more strawberry oatmeal, and the Walmart in Cypress Valley is out,” she said. Then she held out a small, insulated cooler bag. “I brought you some leftovers in case you got a dinner break.”
Noah looked warily toward the bag without taking it. “This feels very familiar,” he declared.
She smiled slightly. “Don’t worry,” she assured him. “It’s just food. Really good food, actually; who knew you were such a good cook?”
She sounded surprised and—unless he was imagining it—more than a little impressed.
He brushed the comment off as if it didn’t matter, even though it ignited a spark of pride within his chest. “I have many hidden talents,” he said, accepting the bag at last. “I’m glad you got to try some. You didn’t have to share.”
“It’s nothing,” she answered with a wave of her hand. “Like I said, I needed to come up anyway. I just wanted to say thank you—for the dinner, and for hanging out with me. It was nice to not be alone.”
“No problem.” Noah unzipped the top of the bag and immediately smelled soy sauce and garlic from the meat. The container was still warm, and his stomach growled loudly, despite the fact that he’d just finished eating.
“Well, I’ll let you enjoy. You probably don’t have a lot of time left,” Olivia said as she took a step backward. “Thank you, again.”
She didn’t stay to let him answer, and Noah peeled back the top of the covered dish without wasting any more time.
Then he realized he didn’t have any utensils.
He reached into the bag again, hoping she’d thought to bring him a fork, and was surprised to discover not only a fork but another square container as well. He pulled it out and opened it.
Inside was another sandwich. A toasted sandwich, to be exact... with dark-brown Nutella and pale bananas visible along the edges.
“My comfort food is Nutella toast with bananas.”
She’d remembered!
He looked up, first toward the store and then around the parking lot, and saw Olivia already climbing back into her Mustang in the next row, her hands empty except for her purse.
He smiled.
She hadn’t bought oatmeal.